


They don't even know you, all they see is scars

by NoPitSoDeep



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
Genre: M/M, Pheels, angst and then fluff, h/c, it's basically the air i breathe, um, wade being self-concious, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPitSoDeep/pseuds/NoPitSoDeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hasn't seen Wade without the mask yet. When Wade comes out of a fight with his suit in ribbons, he won't come home. Peter convinces him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They don't even know you, all they see is scars

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Skins, by Sixx A.M. Reviews are love, no flames, please.

It's only once he gets outside the warehouse that the rain starts to really come down, hard droplets which break against the exposed pieces of his skin, washing the blood off him and down into the rapidly forming river that is now the street. It colors the water with a deep, brown-red sheen, and flows away as fast as it falls, and Wade closes his eyes, letting his battered body get clean for a moment.

The job had been relatively easy, comared to some of what he'd had to do, but his suit was trashed, hanging off him in strips, barely even staying together after the onslaught of bullets and eventual grenade blast it had been put through.

His phone buzzes in his belt, and he jolts, pulling it out with fumbling fingers.

_r u ok? come home._

It's not the first text Peter's sent him tongiht, and it probably won't be the last, but he can't go home. Not yet. Not like this.

He starts walking, tapping out his reply as he goes, and turns into a small alley, where he can climb up onto the fire escape of an old brownstone, finding some kind of refuge from the street.

_can't yet._

Wade makes his way up the steps of the metal contraption and swings up onto the roof, pacing across it until he can reach the edge and jump to the next building, where he lands heavily in a small pool of water, soaking himself even more thoroughly as his phone buzzes again.

_whats going on? where are you?_

He grits his teeth, and shakes his head, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he breaks into a run, leaping from roof to roof and resolutely ignoring the repeated vibrations coming from his phone, more and more rapidly as he goes. He doesn't know where he is, or what direction he's going, isn't even sure why he's running, but he knows he can't stop. If he stops, Peter will find him. Can't let that happen. So he keeps going, keeps pounding his feet on the ground and kicking up water and trying to stop the buzzing in his head, until he trips, and collapses in a puddle, and can't bring himself to get up, can't even imagine getting up. Just lays there, and waits, and hopes that Peter doesn't find him.

\----------

Fifteen minutes after his first text, Peter gives up on it, and leaves the apartment he and Wade have come to share, throwing on one of the merc's ancient, weather-worn hoodies, and stepping out into the deluge that's assaulting downtown New York.

He walks about five blocks in the direciton of the place he knows Wade was working, and then stops, quickly realizing that there's no way he'd have stayed there. Wade hates to be in one place after he's finished a job, can't stand to stay still with the adrennlaine that pumps through his system, and certainly wouldn't have stayed there if he was going to settle down somewhere. Instead, Peter stands perfectly still in the rain for a long, long moment, and sniffs softly, letting his hightened senses do the work, ignoring the smell of stale beer and wet dog that he meets first. He goes deeper, searching through the smells and sounds of the city until he gets what he's looking for, and that strange, unmistakable tingling starts at the back of his skull, travelling down his spine. Gunpowder, blood, AXE: Excite, and damp, musty clothes all come together to form one overwhelming scent that just screams _Wade._

It takes him less than five minutes to track down the building Wade's stopped on, and after a short glance around the deserted street to make sure no-one's looking, he flips up his hood, and begins to climb the side of it, keeping as quiet as he can as he scales the wet, slippery bricks. At the top, his eyes dart around briefly as he comes to stand, landing on the figure huddled in the corner under a small overhang. Peter's stomach churns, and he instinctively steps forward, beginning to walk toward Wade until he hears the barely audible sound of the older man's voice through the rain.

"Go away."

There's a long moment of silence before Peter speaks, keeping his voice as soft as he can while still making sure he can be heard.

"Wade? What's going on?" He takes another small step, ignoring the way the rain begins to soak into his clothes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." It's low, and guttural, and almost growled, as though Wade's voice is as broken as the rest of him appears to be. "Leave me alone."

Peter just shakes his head, and steps closer again. "Wade." The closer he gets, the more visible the merc becomes, and the more he can see of his state. Wade's suit is in shreds, clearly only being held together with a few small stitches in the right places, particularly on his torso. The mask is gone, resulting in Wade having curled his body in on itself, hiding his face in his knees, and he's quivering, slightly, something Peter can't quite explain. Patches of uncovered skin are visible, and Peter can clearly see the rough, scarred nature of Wade's flesh. Which, to be fair, explains a lot about this entire situation. "Wade, it's okay."

"No, Pete, it's not, please, stop, just--" The merc chokes off, and shakes his head, pushing himself into an even tighter ball. "Just go home." He swallows thickly, and shudders once, and the realization hits Peter like a punch to the face that it's because Wade is _crying_ , actually crying, tight, broken sobs wracking his whole body. "Go home, and stop looking, and I'll go away, okay? I'll go away and I'll leave you alone I promise. Just don't hate me, Pete, okay? Please don't hate me, please." He's babbling, now, his breath coming in harsh gasps, and it's all Peter can do not to cry, himself as he comes to a halt in front of Wade, and sinks down to his knees, slowly taking in the sight of the man in front of him.

"Wade." He murmurs, reaching out to stroke his fingers down over the merc's shaking back. "Sweetheart, look at me." Wade shakes his head again, cringing away from the touch, but Peter's not discouraged, moving closer to slide his arm around Wade's waist, and pull him close. He reaches his other hand up, and lets it rest on the back of his neck. "Please?"

It's slow. Glacially slow, but Wade eventually does as he's asked, tilts his face to the side and lets Peter's fingers trail over his cheek, still feebly covered by half his ruined mask. Peter gently peels it away, revealing the entirety of Wade's face, ridged and tight as it is, noting that Wade's eyes are resolutely shut tight. Peter knows Wade may never conisder himself attractive, and up until now, he's never come close to letting Peter see his face, keeping the mask and most of his suit on, even when they have sex. But now, vulnerable like this, with tear-stained cheeks and scarred, marred skin, Peter thinks Wade is the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. The way his skin stretches too tight in some places, and gathers in others creates a pattern of craters and raised bumps over his flesh, and Peter runs his fingers over them, feeling the contours of a face he has loved without ever seeing it for so, so long. His thumb catches on Wade's mouth, twisted into a tight frown, and he leans down, pressing his lips to Wade's in a soft, lingering kiss, which the merc returns, seeming almost shocked.

It's not their fist kiss, and it's not their first time being this close, but it's the first time Peter's ever had the privledge of feeling Wade's lips on his own without a layer of spandex covering the rest of him, and he treasures it. As he pulls back, he slides closer, framing Wade's balled-up body with his legs, and cupping his face with both hands. "Look at me." He says again, and this time Wade complies, finally opening his eyes and catching Peter's gaze, and _wow,_ that's a beautiful green, Peter notes silently. Wade's eyes are bright and enrapturing, with a circle of gold around his pupil, and still filled with tears, which have pooled up and are beginning to trickle down his cheeks once again. Peter strokes his thumbs over Wade's cheeks, and rests their foreheads together, nudging Wade's nose with his own.

"I love you." He says softly, barely above a whisper. "I will always, always love you, no matter what you look like." Wade swallows thickly, and looks down, ducking his head slightly to the side, but Peter just pulls him back up, catching his lips again, hard, and fast, and insitent. "Listen to me." He growls against Wade's mouth, and Wade just nods, letting out a shaky breath. "You're fucking beautiful, Wade, and I love you so much it fucking hurts." Wade's body shakes with another sob, and Peter kisses him once, twice, to keep him calm. "And I'm not going to leave you. I'm never going to leave you, so don't you dare try to leave me. Alright?" Wade tries to curl in on himself again, but Peter keeps him grouned, holding on tight, and forcing him to maintain eye contact. "Alright?" He demands again, and Wade nods shakily, gasping for air, and Peter finally caves, pulls Wade close against his chest, and wraps his body around the merc's like a coccoon.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, but neither of them can be sure. For some endless, immesurable period of time, Wade sobs into Peter's shirt, grasping for purchase on his body, while Peter holds him back, just as tight, whispering promises and reassurances inbetween kisses to his neck and shoulders.

It's not until later, much, much later, when they're both at home, and stripping each other out of their wet clothes that Wade speaks again, amidst the gasps and groans as their bodies slide against each other, the merc hoists Peter up to straddle him, and bites down gently on the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, breathing out his name against warm, wet skin. He says it over and over, almost like a prayer as they fall into bed, with Peter grinding up to meet Wade's thrusts, and their fingers curled together against the mattress. With Wade's lips tracing over every inch of Peter's skin he can find, and Peter's doing the same over Wade's neck, and chest, Wade leans in close, so that their cheeks brush, and whispers his own _I love you_ in Peter's ear.

Afterward, as they're lying intertwined, a mess of limbs and sheets, Peter strokes his fingers over Wade's cheek and thinks that maybe, someday, Wade will see something he sees. Something more than just scars.

**Author's Note:**

> These are Marvel's toys, I'm just playing with them.


End file.
